Schloss Ritter
Rittersberg, Germany
Gabriel Knight woke up in a cold sweat, his breath rasping through his lungs. He closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down, to slow the racing of his heart. After several minutes of meditation, he shifted restlessly in his bed, disturbed by his recent dream.
* * *
The room was cold and dark as he stirred, his brain clouded with confusion and fatigue. His breath was visible in the air as he sat up in bed; the fire had been out for a long while. He had no idea what time it was.
Gabriel shuddered as he gathered the blankets to his chest. He wondered why the castle was freezing. It was almost April, and although it was natural for the temperature to plunge during the night so close to the mountains, he'd never been as cold as he was in that moment. He half expected to find icicles on the ceiling.
His thoughts scattered when he suddenly realized that he wasn't alone.
He felt her presence before he saw her; the scent of jasmine filled his senses. Grace's scent. It was the same flowery perfume that had charmed Gabriel when he met her, moved him when he kissed her, and thrilled him when he made love to her.
She was wearing jasmine on the day she left him in France. After he found her goodbye note to him he spent days locked in their hotel room, his face buried in her pillow, smelling her scent. He was such a fool back then; she had every right to leave him. He spent days, months and ultimately years regretting his behavior, haunted by the eternal "what if" questions.
What if he hadn't used her and discarded her like she was garbage? What if he hadn't flirted so shamelessly with Madeline? What if he had finally grown up and realized that he wanted Grace and only Grace? What if he had finally told her how he felt instead of shutting her out?
The familiar wave of self-disgust at the way he had treated her washed over him. Over five years had passed since the Night Stalker case in Rennes-Le-ChateΓ’u, but the memories were still fresh in his mind, the ache still fresh in his heart.
What if he had followed her, instead of staying where he was to wallow in self-pity and despair?
In the darkness, Gabriel reached out his hand. He whispered her name, and as if sparked by some demonic force, the fire ignited in the hearth and he finally saw Grace standing before him.
Her eyes glittered in the light like polished onyx, and Gabriel felt his heart quicken as he stared into them. Moments passed, and she neither said a word nor took his offered hand. He let it drop to his side, not surprised by her reaction but hurt nonetheless.
What on earth did he expect?
He looked at her. The years had changed her appearance; her hair was no longer worn in the sleek pageboy that he had loved, but was now an ebony waterfall which trailed down her creamy back. He longed to touch it, run his fingers through it.
Grace's face had lost its innocence over time, and became more worldly and confident. He had never seen her so beautiful. Gabriel remembered the silkiness of her skin in his hands as he kissed her on that night long ago, and wondered if it would feel the same after all these years.
Her eyes, which were once animated and youthful, had transformed into pools of resignation and deep sadness. The intelligence that made her so dear to him was still there, but her spirit was broken. He searched her face for the reason why, but it eluded him. He sensed that more had happened in her life to bring about this change, something beyond the pain and grief that he caused her. He wished that she would talk to him.
Other than the sadness, he noticed that her eyes were bold as she surveyed him. Her gaze was an intoxicating combination of fire and ice; he wanted to ask her how much she had of each concerning him.
Do you still love me, Gracie? Or did you lose whatever affection you had for me when you went away?
Looking at her, Gabriel thought that she looked as if she wanted to either slap him in the face or kiss him passionately. Perhaps both, perhaps neither. He didn't care which one she chose as long as she touched him. He needed a sign that he still mattered to her, that the passage of time did not do irreversible damage to what they once had together, no matter how brief that bliss was.
With his heart in his mouth, he whispered her name again and was devastated when she turned to walk away. The soft rustling of her nightgown mocked him as her hips swayed within the crimson silk, her steps strong and sure. As she left the room, the fire died again and Gabriel was left in darkness.
* * *
Sleep would not come again that night, Gabriel was certain. He slowly rose from bed and sat at the edge, deep in thought. He was shaken by the dream of Grace; of course he had dreamt of her over the years, but his previous dreams had always involved the past, and they were never in such vivid detail.
He left the bed, pausing briefly to slip on a pair of shoes before leaving his room. He walked through the corridors of his castle, knowing every inch, every curve. He did not need light to know his way. Many lonely nights spent pacing through the same halls had created that familiarity.
He climbed a winding staircase up to the attic, which Gabriel turned into a studio when the castle renovation was finished a few years back. He switched on the lights and looked around at his work.
He had inherited his father's gift after all; the extremely large space was filled with dozens of finished paintings, and hundreds of sketches. Over half of them featured Grace: Grace reading a book in the garden, a look of pure pleasure on her face. Grace in the library, her brow furrowed in contemplation. Grace sitting underneath a tree, communing with nature. Her portraits hung on the walls, reminding him of what he had lost, what he had driven away.
With a sigh, Gabriel set up a brand-new canvas and prepared his equipment. He was determined to capture this new vision while it was still fresh in his mind. He analyzed the dream as he mixed his oil paints; remembering every detail as he brushed the canvas steadily, deliberately. Ardently.
Finally, hours later, the portrait was finished. The sun rose over the mountains, casting light on his newest creation. He stared at Grace's image, reflecting again on the level of detail; the painting was so realistic that he felt as if he could reach out and touch her. It was his best work to date.
A frown crossed his face as he considered the change in her eyes. He didn't question how he knew about her emotional state; his years of experience as a Shadow Hunter had served well to build and sharpen his intuition. It was now second nature to him. He knew that somehow he was bound to her, soul to soul. That was all he needed to know.
Her eyes t
ell
me of a great despair. What caused such hopelessness? I have to find her and help in any way that I can. I would give anything to take away her pain. I must find her.
With those last four words repeating in his head like a mantra, Gabriel left the studio and returned to his room, heading straight for the Shattenjager library.